


For a Monster

by Cowboy_Sneep_Dip



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Scars, Self-Hatred, Touching, both physical and emotional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 03:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13402962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowboy_Sneep_Dip/pseuds/Cowboy_Sneep_Dip
Summary: Kamui struggles with her own identity as the war drags on, grappling with her monstrous nature and the toll her pacifism begins to take on her body. She seeks comfort in her wife, who knows all too well the pain of a repulsive visage. Reina helps her dredge up a memory from the past in an attempt to reach some sort of reconciliation between past trauma and present guilt.





	For a Monster

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the idea of an inhuman Corrin, and Reina seems like a good figure to provide comfort and understanding to her - after all, Reina treats her own scars as almost something to laugh at, and she seems very confident in the type of person that she is (for better or worse).
> 
> This is mostly a continued attempt for me to actually write one-shots instead of turning everything I write into multi-chapter ordeals. Thanks for reading!

Kamui stared at her reflection in the mirror. A soft, weary sigh escaped her lips, a huff of exhausted dissatisfaction slipping through her slightly parted teeth. Not teeth, but fangs, she thought bitterly. Even in the dark, her weariness shone through. Bags under the eyes, dirty, unkempt hair, cut short not for aesthetics but out of necessity. She cut it herself, frustrated in the aftermath of a battle during which a Nohrian soldier snagged her silvery locks and dragged her to the ground. Needless to say, it didn’t look flattering.

She turned the creaking valve on the sink and thrust her hands into the cold water. She knew it wouldn’t do much, but it felt good. She bent over the sink and splashed her face, scrubbing frantically at her skin. It was just water. It couldn’t undo the scars. It couldn’t fix her, even if it did feel good.

She cupped her hands underneath the flow of water and brought a handful to her mouth. It felt soothing on her dry, cracked lips. She gulped it down thirstily.

Another nightmare had propelled her into this state. It was expected, at this point.

She straightened up, again staring at her reflection. She sighed. No, the water had not undone the scars. It had not washed away the jagged white trail down her cheek. It had not fixed her nose, crooked from being broken and reset improperly. It had not rendered the white cloth eyepatch unnecessary. It was, after all, just water.

She wiped her face with a towel and turned away from the monster she saw before her. She closed her eye, squeezing it shut tightly. She wasn’t supposed to think that anymore. Gods know she had been scolded enough for making such remarks, even if she still protested the truth of them.

“Kamui?”

A gentle voice sounded in the dark behind her. Kamui opened her eye again, reaching up to rub the clouding tears. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I’m okay.”

She could hear footsteps tracking across the floor of the bedroom, soft footfalls of bare feet on carpet, then wood. She allowed herself to be embraced and sunk her face into her wife’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Kamui said softly. “It was just a dream. I’m sorry I woke you.”

Gentle lips brushed the top of her head, then her forehead. Kamui felt a soft hand push her chin up, then lips press against her own. “Come back to bed.”

Kamui wrapped her arms around her more tightly, squeezing. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled again. “Reina, I-“

Reina gently shushed her, running a hand through her hair. “It’s okay.”

Kamui allowed herself to be led back to bed, fingers lightly intertwined with Reina’s. She could feel the roughness of her skin, the calluses and healed scars. The particularly nasty one, the ridge of raised flesh in the delicate webbing between her middle and ring fingers.

 Their relationship had been…rocky would perhaps be a misleading word. Tenuous might be better, some sort of word that emphasized the cautious way in which they interacted. The uncertain words, the imprecise touches. The unshakable feeling of guilt, of shame, of some sort of wrongness.

“It’s going to get even worse as time passes,” Kamui had told her.

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t age like regular humans. I’m going to stay like this.”

“I don’t care.”

“People will talk.”

“Let them.”

At the time, it had been a source of confidence and pride. It had made Kamui happy to hear such words. She felt the same. Let them talk. It didn’t matter.

They sat apart in bed, each lost in their own separate thoughts.

It was fair, they had each independently decided, despite words of reassurance from the other. A monster for a monster.

Kamui sighed. Her body ached. Every muscle worn down, every joint sore. Even so, sleep failed to come. She wanted so desperately to cling to Reina, to lose herself in the folds of her nightclothes, to press their bodies together, to run her hands through her hair, along her skin. To rest in her embrace.

Reina, too, shifted hesitantly in the darkness. The only light in the room was a shaft of moonlight streaming through the open window, casting a narrow square of white on the floor. She wanted to grab Kamui and hold tight, to comfort her, to bring even an ounce of relief to the sorrow that plagued her.

“I’m sorry,” Kamui said again, reaching up with a balled fist and wiping the tears from her good eye. She fussed with her eyepatch and wiped the thin film of water that had accumulated along its edge. “I’m sorry I can’t…” She let the words fall to the floor, useless. Too incomplete to have any meaning.

A gentle hand touched hers. “It’s okay.”

Reina wanted to pull her tight, but she knew she couldn’t. It was strange, she had realized. They both wanted so desperately to comfort the other, but both were unwilling to broach the boundaries necessary for such a thing.

Not that they hadn’t been…intimate, in a sense. The groping hands and sloppy makeouts that had characterized what passed for their courtship did away with any fears in that department, though Kamui’s touch-averse nature made anything past that difficult. Kamui had been embarrassed at first – not of her lover, though. Any display of affection had made her uncomfortable, and then, to suddenly find herself overwhelmed with the desire to affirm her love, she hadn’t quite known what to do with herself. Kamui adjusted her eyepatch.

“You know,” Reina said. “You never did tell me what happened.”

Kamui shook the stray thoughts from her mind. “What do you mean?”

“Your eye.”

Kamui was quiet for a time.

“I’m sorry,” Reina said hesitantly. “I thought…maybe talking about it…I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

Kamui brought her knees close to her chest.

The room was almost silent, save the hum of a slight breeze drifting past their window.

“I don’t remember how old I was,” Kamui said. “Maybe ten. Maybe twelve.” She adjusted, shifting slightly to prop her back up. “We had visitors. Royalty, from the south.”

 

 

 

 

“Corrin, remember to keep your back straight.”

“Of course, big brother.”

Xander fixed her dress, straightening out the ruffled curls of white lace along the shoulders. It was a gorgeous dinner gown, a gift from a friend of Camilla’s. Some noblewoman from the city, Corrin thought she remembered.

“What’s that look for?” Xander asked, peering at her stern pout. “You should be happy, shouldn’t you? When’s the last time you had visitors?”

“They’re going to make fun of me again.”

Xander sighed and knelt in front of Corrin, checking the hem of the skirt. “No they won’t.”

“They will. They’re going to call me names.”

“I specifically asked father not to invite Iago. We don’t want another…incident like last time.”

The advisor’s words had burned into her brain, and she hated him for it. She hated him most of all because he had been right. She _was_ a monster. Barely human. She didn’t even look human. And now, father’s friends were coming yet again, coming to gawk at her and prod her and examine her weird teeth and her weird ears and her weird eyes. To put her on display, a bird in a cage. No, not a bird. Birds were pretty.

A performer. A sideshow freak. Made up to do a little song and dance, to entertain the drunk lords until they passed out from wine. On a good day, that was the end of it.

“Okay?” Xander asked her, checking to confirm that she did indeed hear him. “We aren’t going to have a scene like that again. I promise.”

Corrin nodded. She got to her feet, checking herself in the full-length mirror that adorned her bedroom wall. The dress didn’t quite fit. It hung loosely on her shoulders, draping over her slim frame like a sheet tossed over a coatrack. The skirt just brushed the floor, just barely giving a glimpse of her bare feet underneath. They had tried giving her heels to wear last time, but she had fallen down the stairs before even reaching the dinner party. And that was after the hassle of finding a pair that fit her inhuman extremities.

She let Xander finish dressing her. He helped her pull on black shoulder-length opera gloves. Again, to disguise her irregular hands. With gloves on, it was scarcely noticeable that ‘claw’ was a more appropriate word. He adjusted her headband, tucking her long silver hair into some approximation of a neatened hairstyle.

She stared at herself in the mirror again as he went to check on the other preparations for the dinner party. She looked like a mess, she thought. Unkempt hair, vacant, red eyes. A perpetually dazed expression plastered across her face. The lipstick and makeup had done little to reduce the strangeness of her face. The too-wide mouth, crammed tight with sharp teeth. The narrow eyes that verged on inhuman. She wanted to cry.

The entire walk down to the banquet hall, she clutched Camilla’s hand tightly, holding her breath to try and stop any tears before they began.

Much to Corrin’s relief, it was a mixer, not a feast. Sitting at the head of the table, next to her father, alongside her beautiful and elegant siblings, she always felt even worse. Now, among mingling visitors and servants with trays of food, she had least had the opportunity to hide. She clung tightly to Camilla’s hand, trying to tuck herself behind the teenage girl’s imposing form.

Camilla was tall for her age, already showing her beauty. Rather than feel jealous, as she thought she might, it made Corrin proud. To see her sister, young and yet already the belle of the ball, gaining attention from men and women alike. And the attention on her meant less on Corrin.

She did steal away from Camilla at one point to chat with a maid who was doing her best to not spill a tray of sparkling golden drinks.

“Can I have one, Feli?” Corrin asked, lightly tugging her sleeve. Felicia was around Corrin’s age, perhaps just a year or two older. She frowned.

“I’m not sure,” she said nervously. “Did you ask your father?”

Corrin pouted. “No.”

Felicia turned away briefly to offer the tray to a passing man, a tall fellow in a clean black suit. She bowed as he passed.

“What even is that?” Corrin asked, reaching a gloved hand out to pluck a glass from the tray. She sniffed it. “Smells funny.”

“It’s champagne,” Xander said, startling her by snatching it from her hand. “And it’s not for children.”

Corrin scowled. “You never let me have any fun.”

Xander chuckled. “Do you even know why alcohol is fun?”

“Because…” Corrin paused. She knew the drinks were popular, and that they made people rude and boisterous. And that large quantities of it were necessary for a good party. “Um…”

Xander laughed and patted her arm. “Why don’t we go get you something to eat?”

Corrin let him take her by the hand and tug her off into the crowd. She had lost sight of Camilla, only catching a glimpse of her as she chatted and laughed with some noblewoman, a pretty woman with bright blonde hair.

As the evening wore on, Corrin became increasingly certain that perhaps no one would be bothering her after all. She had seen a few suspicious glares, a few whispers and points, a couple nervous coughs. But for the most part, she was what made her most comfortable – ignored.

“Hey!” a loud, gruff voice called out behind her as she was trying to carefully stack squares of cheese on her plate. She closed her eyes. So much for being ignored.

She turned slowly.

“You’re her, aintcha?” it was a tall, stocky nobleman who had apparently been quite enjoying this ‘shampain’, as Xander had called it. “You’re Garon’s new pet.”

Corrin opened and closed her mouth. She scanned the partygoers, hoping one of her siblings would take notice. No one seemed to care. Other nobles chatted and ate and drank, largely oblivious to the drunk man growling at the gangly child.

“M-my name is Corrin, milord.” Corrin curtsied nervously.

The man chewed his lip and looked her over. “Skinny little thing, aintcha?”

Corrin nodded. She turned back to her food, hoping he was here to gawk and would move on, like a few other noblemen had done throughout the evening.

“Oy!” he grabbed her arm. “I’m talkin’ to ya.”

She curtsied again. “I’m sorry, milord. I meant no offense.”

“What’choo say?” he growled.

Corrin stared at him. She knew her Nohrian wasn’t very good. She spoke with a bit of a lisp, and Gunter constantly chastised her for speaking too softly to be heard. She tried again, louder. “I said I meant no offense, milord.”

The man drained the remainder of his drink and let the glass fall to the floor. It bounced off the tile with a sharp ding but didn’t shatter.

He let go of Corrin’s arm and stumbled off in search of a refill. Corrin let out a sigh of relief.

“Ignore him,” came a flat voice from somewhere below her. Another maid, tresses of blue hair tumbling over her shoulders, was scrubbing the residual champagne from the floor. “He’s drunk.”

“Do you need any help, Flora?”

Flora shook her head. “I’m okay. Perhaps you should check in with Lord Xander? I haven’t seen him for quite some time.”

Corrin made her way through the mingling nobles, munching on her plate of food as she went. If there was one highlight to dinner parties, it was the food. No more stale bread, no more tough, sinewy meat. Only the best for the lord and ladies of the Nohrian upper crust. Fancy, sharp cheeses, salty meats, soft bread. Soft! With creamy butter and all sorts of herbs baked in. And filets of grilled fish, and little skewers of roasted vegetables, and all sorts of wonderful treats. She always made a note to sneak some to the maids, too.

The music was nice, too. Father was a big fan of music, and would often have performers play at his parties. Tonight was a string quartet, softly filling the banquet hall with rich melodies. Perhaps, Corrin dared hope, it wasn’t such an awful night.

“Let go of me, you creep!” a shaky voice cut through the ambient noise like a knife. The din of conversation hushed. Corrin recognized the voice immediately. Her eyes narrowed and she darted forward, slipping between people with haste.

“What did you say to me?” it was the same drunk noble, she knew before she even spotted him. “I am your…” he hiccupped. “Superior! You listen to me!”

Felicia was physically struggling with him, trying to slip her arm out of his iron grip without dropping her tray of glasses. She made the decisive call to set the tray down on a table. “Please, sir-“

“Oh, _sir_ , now?” the man snarled. “What happened to _creep_?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Felicia recovered, stammering. “I didn’t mean it.”

The man grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, growling. “Why don’t I take you back to my room and show you a little discipline?”

“Hey!” Corrin shouted at him with all the courage she could muster. “Let her go!”

The man turned and stared at her. He burst out laughing.

At this point, even the musicians had stopped playing. All eyes were fixed on the three of them.

“Let her go,” Corrin repeated, trying to sound commanding.

The man continued laughing. “What, are you going to stop me? Garon’s little freak?”

Corrin frowned and took a cautious but determined step forward. The tile felt cold on her bare feet. She could feel eyes on her, but she didn’t care.

The man turned his attention back to Felicia. “Pay no mind to the aberration, darling. Where were we?”

Corrin grabbed his arm and pulled with all the strength her little arms could muster. Which, it turns out, was quite a lot. She yanked him back, freeing Felicia from his grasp. He turned to Corrin, bearing his full height down on her angrily.

“Perhaps _you_ need a little lesson in manners!” he grabbed her arm roughly. She instinctively retaliated, sinking her teeth into his forearm. She felt the sharp teeth slash through the fabric of his shirt with ease and embed themselves in the soft flesh of his arm. She tasted the warm spray of blood.

He howled in pain, withdrawing his now-mangled arm, screaming in shock. “You little bitch!” he roared. He snatched a wineglass from the tray and smashed it across Corrin’s face.

 

***

 

“I…I was reprimanded for ruining the party,” Kamui continued. “I stumbled back to my room, half-blind, and passed out. When I came to, Xander was picking bits of broken glass out of my cheek.”

Reina nodded. “And the man?”

Kamui picked at the edge of the blanket. “What about him?”

“What happened to him?”

“Camilla killed him.”

Reina said nothing.

“At least, I think so. She told me he wouldn’t be a problem anymore. He turned up dead the next morning.”

“I’m sorry,” Reina said softly. Kamui realized she was stroking her hand. She had been so lost in the unburying of memory that she hadn’t even noticed. She returned the gesture, wrapping her long fingers around Reina’s hand. She smiled.

“That…was probably more detail than you asked me for.”

Reina smiled. “Of course not, love.” She brought Kamui’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “Thank you.”

Kamui leaned back against the bedframe. It did feel good to talk about it, she had to admit. To confess what had happened to her, and what continued to happen to her. She knew that Reina understood, at least.

To her, Reina was the moon and the stars. She, herself, was a monster. Barely human, less so with each passing day. Less a woman and more a patchwork of scarred flesh and hideous deformities. Kamui had been scant with details about her life, unwilling to delve into the dark horrors of her past. She had come to terms with some of it, but for the most part she simply tried to forget. And so to Reina, she would often seem closed off. So much of her life shrouded in mystery; clear signs of heartbreak, longing, pain, trauma, buried deep in her heart and only brought forth in bits and pieces.

They knew each other’s bodies, at least a bit. Nervous touching here and there, the occasional misplaced hand while kissing. Kamui knew about the scars on her back and stomach. And Reina, too, knew about Kamui’s. Her chest, her thigh, the bottoms of her feet. And of course, their faces, though that was hard to hide. The scars had once been so shameful, but now were simply another facet of one another.

 Kamui laughed softly.

“What’s that?” Reina asked, still rubbing a thumb over Kamui’s knuckles.

“You were so worried,” Kamui said. “You were worried I couldn’t possibly fall in love with you because of your scars. But we’re the same, aren’t we?”

Reina suddenly withdrew her hand.

“Reina? What’s wrong?”

“No,” she said. “We aren’t the same.” She lifted her hand to Kamui’s face and gently ran a thumb along her cheek, tracking the light, jagged line of a scar. “You got your scars from helping people.” She let her hand drop. “Not from hurting them.” She looked Kamui in the eye. “I never want to hear you compare yourself to me again.”

“Reina, I-“

Reina shook her head. “Kamui, no.” She returned her hands to her lap and folded them. “I know what I am, and I know what I have done.”

“Don’t say that,” Kamui pleaded, her voice cracking. “Please don’t say that.”

Reina sighed. “No, it’s…” she took Kamui’s hand again and squeezed. “I understand the things that I’ve done. I know myself, and I know my past. And I’ve come to terms with that. With everything. The people I’ve hurt, the people I’ve killed, even…” she faltered for a second. “Even leaving my parents. I feel sorrow, yes, but not regret. I do not regret the path I have taken in life.” She reached out a cautious arm, wrapping it around Kamui’s shoulder. The younger girl instinctively flinched, almost pulling away before setting into the embrace.

“I regret nothing, my love. If I were given another chance, I would not pick another path. Least of all one that would keep me from you.”

Kamui blinked back tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “You…you deserve so much more than me. You don’t deserve a monster like me.”

Reina pulled her closer and kissed her forehead lightly, being sure to telegraph her motions clearly and not startle her. She pressed their foreheads together. Kamui reached out, wrapping her arms around Reina’s neck and burying her hands in Reina’s long, dark hair. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she murmured.

Reina kissed her cheek, then her nose, then her lips. “I don’t know what I have done in my life to deserve you, but I thank the gods every day,” she whispered, kissing her again.

It was so much. Kamui tried wrangling the thoughts back into place, rearranging her feelings into the order they belonged in. The memories mingling with reality, the love and the loathing, and always the scars. She choked out a gasp.

“May I touch you?” Reina asked quietly. Kamui nodded slowly.

Reina reached a hand around Kamui’s lower back and tugged her closer, shifting her other hand to grasp the back of her head and pull her into a kiss. It wouldn’t last long. It never did. Kamui could only stand so much at a time, but for the moment it was bliss for them both. Kamui let herself melt into Reina’s embrace, let herself fall to pieces in her arms, losing herself in the gentle firmness of wet lips and hot breath and twining fingers. Reina carefully balanced her role as guide and participant, gently guiding Kamui’s shaky motions and holding her tightly, each grasp a signal of kind reassurance. Eyes closed, lips flush, a swirling motion of hands and hair and flesh in the dark.

And like that, the moment passed. Kamui extricated herself from Reina’s grip with a light push, signaling her boundary. She sat on the bed in the dark, breathing heavily, hands trembling, hating the body that refused to allow her such simple pleasure. She wanted nothing more than to keep going, to push forward, to lose herself in her the storm of passion and longing and lust that she felt in her chest. Instead, she rested her shaking hands on her knees and tried to steady her jagged breaths.

Reina carefully positioned herself next to Kamui, careful not to touch her. “Thank you, love,” she whispered. “Wonderful, as always.”

Kamui closed her eye and stilled her heart. Reina was seemingly the only one who could do this. The only one to reach into the swirling black void in her chest and pull her to the surface, to hold her until it all passed. Something in her touch, her kiss, her voice. Something that made none of it matter anymore. She lay down slowly, slipping her slender, muscular legs under the covers and burying her face in her pillow.

She could feel Reina adjusting next to her, fluffing her pillow and crawling under the covers, inching as close as she dared. Close enough that Kamui could feel the warmth radiating from her. She pressed herself backwards against Reina, testing the waters. At least her body would allow this much.

Kamui felt sleep drifting like a haze into her mind. It would not be fitful, but at least it would be rest. And in the morning, Reina would still be there.


End file.
